Star Trek: Phoenix  Judicium S1E7
by andyblue1975
Summary: Episode 7 of the Phoenix saga.


The re-entry from the slipstream jump was a bit harsher than the expected norm, as the crackle and glow from the unstable core faded. The vessel was adrift, and ever so slowly turning sideways, as no control was maintained. Smoke emanated from the burnt out intake processors on the bussard ramscoops, whilst the normal blue glow along the nacelles was replaced with scorch marks and infrequent sparks within and without. Inside the Alpha Flyer the situation was even direr as the red alert strips flashed their crimson warning, bathing the dark interior and its unconscious occupants. Duco, Craig and Ken all sprawled haphazardly in an unconscious state, sporting various contusions, burns, and bruises. A proximity alarm suddenly shrieked its audible warning as the remaining operational consoles that displayed such information clearly showed that the flyer was about to collide with an equally adrift Starfleet vessel.

In the typical flash of light he appeared before the elders, attired in a flowery shirt, equally flowery shorts, and a pair of sandals. Adjusting his hat, he grasped the thick Cuban cigar and exhaled a few clouds of smoke, before removing it from his mouth and flicking the ash on to the floor of the council chamber. He wasn't pleased at being interrupted in the middle of a Cuban Festival in full swing, and gazed at the elders with an expression and air of smugness and superiority. Whatever the reason for the leader and elders to summon him was, he expected it to be a justifiable one. The leader rose from his pedestal whilst the council elders arose from their chairs, which were arranged in such a way with the leader's pedestal, they formed a crescent like shape. "Q. I summon you before the Continuum Council to atone for your actions. No more will you react irresponsibly with god like powers at your command to do what you want, when you want. How dare you sanction judgement upon races such as humans and the Calamarain, when you, the biggest hypocrite of all has no one to make you pay for your actions. Until now that is. You put humanity on trial, you constantly played tricks on the Calamarain, you toyed with the inhabitants of Kreetasa, and the straw that broke the camels back was your lack of responsibility with your trainee, Amanda Rogers." Q looked puzzled, as he was well aware that he and Amanda had a falling out due to her discovery of the truth of her parent's fate. But he was under the impression that she was forging her own path within the Continuum. He turned his attentions to his son, who needed much guidance should he be the continuing hope to forge a new future. The leader recognized Q's puzzlement as a clear indication that he really had no idea what had become of his former protégé. "In her anger at our betrayal, she cut a swath of destruction across the galaxy. She thought it would be fun to briefly remove all aggression and the very essence of what it is to be Klingons, from the Klingons, which i managed to restore. She has relocated the Calamarain to the Andromeda Galaxy, which is a wrong we are still trying to correct. She automatically inverted the Nausicaans and Chalnoth to see, literally, if they have more guts than the Klingons." Q chuckled to himself; "Good one Amanda!" One of the council members spoke to Q and the others that although they had been tempted to leave these two species as they were, in the name of universal balance, the issue needed correcting. Q had realized that she had become powerful in her own right, but at the same time had highly underestimated her potential. If anything, his oversight had appeared to cost the galaxy and the continuum no end of problems. "Her final act was with the destruction of the star, she committed suicide." Q now wished that he had left her to carry out her normal human life aboard the Enterprise D. "As you know, this isn't the first time a Q has committed suicide. No, it happened before with Quinn, and you had a hand in that too, which eventually caused a civil war, which you had a hand in too, which...need i say more?" Throughout the summoning Q had said very little, and had mainly listened to the elders passing judgement. He was well aware that they could easily erase him and his whole family line from existence. It was time for taking stock and now with a son to think about, he felt it was time to take responsibility for his actions. After all, as a parent he had a care of duty to teach the correct life lessons to his son, so he would differentiate between right and wrong, realize that for every action there is a reaction, and that there are lines that must never be crossed, and if they are that one must take responsibility for one's own actions. Here he was. Q. Taking responsibility for his own actions. If Picard and Janeway could see him now they would make the most of the opportunity to berate him for the rest of their natural lives. "I accept and await my punishment accordingly for my actions." Even during the finality of a situation, Q managed to garner some fun out of the moment. As he looked upon the faces of the leader and the elders expressing shock at his humility, he took another couple of puffs of his cigar, and waited.

As the remaining crew had found to their distaste, the faux Phoenix gave the crew limited access to necessary systems. That much was certain, and that was the lookalike starship was streaking towards Earth at maximum warp. The senior officers, Captain Simon Hodgkinson, and Commander Andrew Davenport had barely sat down in their command chairs during the journey. When they weren't stood facing the forward viewscreen, they would visit various stations and check in on their fellow officer's wellbeing, or be checking out the ship and trying to glean any information they could from the alien technology that was the copycat vessel. Either way, they were not comfortable like the others sitting in their chairs for long. It was almost as if they had a subconscious fear that if they sat in the alien chair, it would suck out their life-force or force a symbiotic coupling upon them being seated. It was apparent at this point to the survivors that they really were surplus to the ships requirements, as most of the vessel seemed automated. However, Simon still felt comfortable that the crew should occupy certain key consoles as they would on any Starfleet vessel, just in case of any unforeseen events occurring and to cover any eventuality. Requesting, the company of the second officer and Chief Of Sciences, Simon headed into a carbon copy of his ready room, as Andrew and Sharon followed.

Counsellor Walker had remained in her quarters for the duration of the journey. Although she hadn't visited sickbay for a check up, she pondered if she should request the Doctor to confine her to quarters until they arrived at Earth. It wasn't that she didn't trust herself. She was a well trained Counsellor, and thus could handle generally any kind of emotional distress or trauma. She just perceived herself at this time to be incapable of counselling anyone, and wanted to avoid any potentially awkward or explosive situations, should she deny a crew members request for a session. Losing Sodak the first time had been hard enough, but to lose him a second time, permanently, was difficult to bear at best. Yet she had noticed that he didn't seem departed, which she put down to the fact that she was deep in the grieving process and subconsciously holding onto anything related to him or his existence. But the truth of the matter was he was aboard the escape pod that had failed to detach itself from the Phoenix and the impending supernova. The death throes of the star had been contained by Klix but the Phoenix exploded in a fireball of molten debris. Yet, there were moments where she felt that Sodak was practically in the same room. It was then that she was inexplicably overwhelmed by a blissful and soothing calm. Logical thoughts and guidance through her current grieving filled her mind, showing concepts she had never been aware of during all of her career as a Counsellor. Each thought she perceived, each image projected in her consciousness, and each instruction subliminally appearing belonged to one species; Vulcan. As she played the events of their last moments together once again in her mind, like she had done many times before, there had been one minor but important detail that she had overlooked. There was no doubt in Kirsty's mind that Sodak must have known he was near death, and had transferred his katra, his living spirit, to her. It was now up to her to ensure that as keeper of the katra, she returned the spirit of Sodak back to his parents on Vulcan.

As a Doctor, for the first time in his life, Kurt felt hypocritical about his constant preaching about looking after yourself. He was a firm believer in the phrase of a healthy body equals a healthy mind. Yet here he was, climbing the stairs to the bridge that may have well been a mountain, considering the effort he was undertaking. In normal circumstances, he would have taken the turbolift, or if it was an emergency, a molecule scrambling intra ship, site to site transport. But then this was as far removed from normal circumstances as possible. There was no point him staying in sickbay as it was completely automated. He didn't trust taking the turbolift at this time on a ship that wasn't their own, and he definitely wasn't about to take a chance on having his molecules scrambled, only to have reassembled in the wrong order in some bizarre location. As he finally entered the bridge, he temporarily propped himself against the wall to catch his breath whilst mopping his brow with a handkerchief. An Ensign at a nearby station turned to face him to see if she could assist, and then smiled. "Who heals the healer, eh doc?" Kurt managed a half grin in between getting his breath. "Indeed Ensign, indeed." As Rez lay in sickbay, Kurt wondered if his recovering colleague would ask the same question.

The dry, arid planet of Parcha made Vulcan seem like a paradise. Of course to Vulcans, their homeworld was just that, a paradise, but to many offworlders it was far too hot and dry. Parcha was bone dry and had been as long as history had recorded it. Scientists from the various species of the Federation speculated that at one point it may have been a thriving planet flourishing with life, due to its orbit of the local sun. Parcha was too inhospitable to even construct a penal colony as the inhabitants sentenced there wouldn't live out their punishment. For a Vulcan though, the planet was bearable for a while, but at some point even then, the constant high temperatures would eventually chip away at reserved logic and mental discipline. The hardiness of the escape pod was a testament to its designers as it had more than fulfilled its purpose on this occasion. The various readouts displayed information such as oxygen remaining, outside temperature, remaining fuel, and other essential updates. Sodak ascertained that as was typical with Starfleet standard escape pods, he had enough fuel to launch back into space. However, that was as far as it would extend as the remaining quantities following launch would be used to maintain thrusters control and the crafts equilibrium. Once that was exhausted, the pod would just drift, constantly emitting its beacon on all known frequencies. The recyclable power cells had a life of ten standard Federation years, therefore if the vehicle was grounded or adrift, it would support life by maintaining the temperature, the oxygen recyclers, and other essential systems. Parcha was firmly seated in Federation space, but had never amounted to anything more than a lifeless space body. Over a century ago, it had been considered as one of the test sites for Project Genesis, but had been narrowly defeated by the choice of Ceti Alpha VI.

The lcars display indicated that it would be foolish to exit the pod for a few hours as the sun was at its highest point, causing the temperature to escalate to the peak of the day. Sodak surmised that he didn't want to experience the boiling conditions a plomeek is subjected to as it is prepared for the soup. During those hours though, there would be plenty to occupy his time. He mentally surmised a list of duties that would help keep him focused until the burning temperatures dropped enough for him to safely venture outside the pod. His first task, which he had already commenced, was to access one of the display terminals and see if he could access information showing his location. Following that he would check ration supplies, the status of the spacesuits, and anything else that sprang to mind. As he managed to access star charts, the computer managed to extrapolate his escape trajectory from the Phoenix. The pods holding clamps had initially malfunctioned causing a failure to launch. As the Phoenix started to rupture with explosions, a lucky jolt had freed the pod, knocking Sodak out cold. Prior to the freeing of the pod, Sodak had accepted the finality of the situation and had prepared himself for his imminent demise by meditating, and focusing on his journey to the next life. The computer had chosen the nearest planet that was as close a match as possible to support the life of its occupant. However, the shockwave from the Phoenix's final explosion had caused a navigational malfunction. Although it had landed on a planet that could sustain life, that life was only sustainable on the surface a few hours a day, and during the night when the temperature was at its coolest. Parcha made Rura Penthe seem a paradise in comparison. As Sodak extrapolated the data and managed to pinpoint his location, he immediately turned his attention to local shipping lanes, starship activity and space stations, and whether there was any localised Federation or Starfleet activity. The fates were smiling in his favour as he noticed that he wasn't too far away from a lot of Starfleet activity. He would have enough fuel to launch the pod into orbit and get within range to issue a vocal emergency distress call in case the automated beacon was ignored or not within range. Before initiating the launch, he would have to examine the exterior of the pod to check no intakes were clogged, and that it was mechanically safe enough to launch. Once the temperature outside cooled he would initiate the checks. As he continued to monitor the activity on the display, he realised that it would be an opportunity to embrace on of Starfleet ethos; to explore. Whilst he was planet bound, he would do exactly that, take a few readings, and then prepare to leave. Then he noticed something strange on the monitor, as the Starfleet signatures seemed to disappear then reappear. "Fascinating."

As the first of the injured officers started to come round, Craig equalled the thudding sensation in his head to the noise that would be made by a herd of one million stampeding elephants. As blurred vision subsided, whilst using the nav console of leverage, he gazed out of the Alpha Flyer's window, and muttered several expletives. Instinctively and ignoring the overwhelming pain in his head, he fired up the thrusters, which appeared to be the only remaining from of propulsion still active. Even as he typed in commands, he wasn't sure that thrusters would be enough to avoid a collision with their momentum. He hadn't the luxury of time to calculate their mass with their current acceleration rate and trajectory. So he used his best guesses in the hope that what was left of the flyer and the crew wouldn't be end up as space dust. As the others started to come round, Craig had managed to avoid impact by the skin of his teeth, although he was sure he could hear a faint scraping as the super shuttle brushed against a nacelle. Manipulating the thrusters with skill and grace, Craig manoeuvred the flyer to attempt to get a better look at the vessel they had almost crashed into. By now, Duco had managed to compose his battered self at his equally battered station. "She's clearly a Constitution Class vessel. I'd know those classic lines anywhere. Pre mass refit too when they all concluded their final five year missions in the late 2260's, early 2270's, only to undergo a complete overhaul." As the stricken super shuttle manoeuvred around the vessel, Craig noticed the registry number on the side of the hull as they all agreed it would be wise to try to activate the shuttle bay doors. "U.S.S. Exeter NCC 1672." As they neared the doors and attempted to interface their 24th century bio-neural computer with vintage duotronic technology, Duco and Craig were like a well oiled machine. Ken seemingly had gone into a daydream, as he repeatedly uttered; "...Exeter...i know that ship..." It was then he realised that the ship they were attempting to dock inside was in fact a ship listed as a derelict, due to it being a death trap. "Boys, i know this ship..." Craig still focussed on the task at hand interjected; "We know, you keep repeating yourself." Ken shook his head anxiously. "No, no, no. This is THE U.S.S. Exeter. The planet...we are orbiting...must be Omega IV. The Captain, Ronald Tracey, ordered an away team down to the surface. Upon their return, an unknown plague was brought aboard the ship which killed everyone. Everyone except Captain Tracey. He found that if he stayed on the planet. He could live. He therefore came to the misguided conclusion that the planet was a fountain of youth. Subsequently, he sided with one of the warring factions, supplied them with technology, and repeatedly broke the Prime Directive." The officers halted mid task and turned to face him. As if a text pad had appeared before him from his Academy days, Duco recited history. "The crew contracted a plague that was caused by the warring factions who had previously used and detonated bio chemical weapons of mass destruction. James T. Kirk was assigned to locate the Exeter and discover why the ship and crew had been out of contact for some time. After discovering Tracey's folly, he had him arrested and the ship declared a derelict. Also, a peace process of sorts was initiated causing a cessation of hostilities." Craig also remembering the Federation history lessons spoke of one important fact that hadn't been mentioned. "Dr. Leonard McCoy discovered that if the crew had stayed on Omega IV a little while longer, they too would have developed the same super immunity that the Yangs and the Kohms had. But unfortunately, they returned to the ship early, and the crew of the Exeter became nothing more than salt, as their bodies were dehydrated of all water content." Ken had been working out his dates along with a best estimate as to what part of the 23rd century they were in. He was trying to ascertain if they were present at a point where peace had been restored, and Omega IV had rid itself of all pollutants. In the 24th century, the time they had been transported from due to an unstable quantum core, Omega IV was a Federation member state. The Alpha Flyer was in a state where repairs could only be made at a 24th century maintenance facility, and the trio of officers needed a form of transport fast. If he could determine if the Exeter was plague free and salvageable, they would have themselves a new means of transportation, until they figured out what their next move would be. Finally, Craig had managed to interface with the duotronic computer that was barely active, as Ken slowly guided the flyer through the Exeter's clamshell doors.

The Praetor Class Bird Of Paradise, Crimson Talon, entered the Omega System at high warp and under cloak. As Commander Kul, a Romulan veteran of nobility sat patiently in his chair not even betraying a single thought through facial expression. Stoic and business like, he kept his anxiety and enthusiasm well hidden to a point that he seemed almost Vulcan...almost. Years of research had finally led to this day, and he had been the driving force behind the project's inception, throughout all the stages until this latest and final phase. Aboard the vessel which was the first of its class, and also powered by an experimental artificial quantum singularity, the key to redressing the losses and righting the wrongs of the Earth-Romulan war was held in the form of a deadly weapon. The generator that created power for the prototype isolytic subspace disruptors hummed away on standby, as technicians made final adjustments and alterations. It was fitting that the weapon be test detonated in orbit of Omega IV, as that planet itself and its society had been manipulated at the hands of the Romulans. Following the loss to United Earth over a century earlier, the scientists projected possible paths of the humans continued exploration, expanse and colonization. The Praetor's view was that if the Romulans couldn't have any system they eyed, then neither should anyone else. Omega IV was a prime example of the Romulans subterfuge and manipulation. Subtly providing the means of the two powers of the planet to defend themselves whilst instilling the seeds of dissent and paranoia in the upper echelons of the respective Yang and Kohm government, meant that war was inevitable. The fact that the Starfleet Captain had turned his back on his duty to the Federation was an additional bonus. It seemed ironic to Kul that an Earth starship had exacerbated the situation further still, much to the Romulans delight. As the vessel was about to drop out of warp, Kul instructed that the vessel remain cloaked whilst scouring the area for possible threats. That was when he realised that he didn't need any sensor readings to tell him what the observation screen showed. The U.S.S. Exeter, the initial target of the weapon, was still present and adrift, yet a smaller vessel appeared to be entering the shuttlebay. Kul's loyal crew were like a well oiled machine running to precision, and could usually anticipate their superior's every move. A trait that other crews across the fleet tried to emulate, but could never duplicate with the same flair and efficiency. Already running sensor sweeps, Centurion Vrun reported the alarming facts; "Federation vessel. Scout craft. Advanced technology...of a like unknown in the Empire's database." Kul kept his gaze on the screen, whilst a corner of his mouth almost betrayed a smirk or wry smile. "The games afoot. The test will be more challenging with prey that fights back." The Crimson Talon hung in space as if perched on some invisible platform, stalking its prey whilst watching and waiting for the moment of opportunity. The moment to strike.

The walls of the faux ready room were identical to the original right down to the last detail. Although Captain Simon Hodgkinson and Commander Andrew Davenport were present, there were no ongoing briefings or discussions which would normally fill the air of such a place. Both men stared at the wall of several paintings depicting the various incarnations of the Phoenix. The NX Class Phoenix was the first starship to bear the name, which had endured a lengthy service from being launched mid-conflict during the Earth-Romulan war, leading up to the formation of the United Federation Of Planets, and beyond. Then the next incarnation depicted in a painting came in the form of the Constitution Class, followed by in order, the graceful lines of the Excelsior Class, the powerful Ambassador Class, the adaptive Nebula Class, and then the current Vesta Class. Simon wondered, as Lieutenant Sharon Miller and Doctor Kurt Coey silently filed in, would there be another incarnation of the Phoenix for artists such as the famed Doug Drexler to depict. Simon steeped his fingers in thought as he stared at the vessels and silently asked the Captains of the previous vessels what would be their next step. He continued to focus on the depictions and was well aware that all the senior officers were present. "Thoughts please. You must have a lot to get off your chest." The doc was the first to speak up. "Rez is recovering nicely, and i could do with something to drink, but the best we have is the urine called synthehol." Sharon could contain her frustration no longer, and burst into an uncontrollable rant. "Starfleet sucks. The Admiralty will be receiving my resignation when we return." Then she directed her tirade at the Captain, who had yet to remove his gaze from the paintings of the starships on the wall. "The Kelnar leader was calling your bluff to test your character. Such a religious and spiritual man whom i got to know could never harm a fly. It is the Kelnar way, and is a custom left over from old traditions of their past when they were united with the Gavvadar. You failed the test. God damn it! Your hook up to their speaker system caused mass unrest. Although the sun didn't consume Athena Sirius in the end, you can bet that after the riots and mass suicides, there won't be much left of the Kelnar. Whoever and whatever is left will be in a chaotic state of lawlessness. As for the Gavvadar who evacuated their planetary territories, you can bet that Starfleet now has a target on their backs." Simon stood up as if he was forcibly shocked out of his seemingly catatonic trance. He walked round the oblong table to face Sharon across the faux oak, and slammed both fists down hard. "I failed the test? We failed the test! We are a crew. A team. Acting under orders from Starfleet Command. You have a problem with those orders, address them to me. If you aren't satisfied with my response, then you can address your concerns to the person who issued the orders, which at the moment is Admiral Janeway." At that moment a chime rang out requesting attention. "Hodgkinson here." The young ensign who was informing the Captain of the latest news, had a long way to go before his voice would be laced with calmer tones and his messages delivered with confidence, which came with experience. "Captain. There is a Starfleet shuttle of similar configuration to the Alpha Flyer, on a direct interception course. The pilot is Admiral Janeway." Q was bored as he started to tap his feet which echoed in the large chamber. At the same time it didn't go unnoticed by the council that it was yet another show of disrespect on Q's behalf, instead of his showing patience whilst he waited on the deliberation of the elders. The leader halted the discussions with a raise of a hand, and turned to face Q. He was sorely tempted to sentence him to the life of a Denebian amoeba, but that would serve no purpose. "The council has concluded its deliberations." "At length", Q added sarcastically. The leader vaulted over the table he was seated at, and although frail looking, his energy in executing a movement stated otherwise. The leader stormed across the chamber floor until he was face to face with Q. "You have no respect for nothing. You encourage chaos, instil fear, and cultivate paranoia, whilst take great pleasure from playing practical jokes, and ultimately enjoy the role of master puppeteer. You are no different than the ancient Norse god Loki." Q smugly removed his cuban cigar and puffed a cloud of smoke in the face of the leader. "You are hereby removed of all your powers and sentenced to live out a natural life amongst humans, effective immediately."

The trio of Starfleet officers had managed to ascertain if the Exeter was still carrying the plague, and had deduced from their findings that because the vicious virus had exterminated its hosts it had no more vessels to consume, and had died off. As they made their way through the dark corridors, the only person who knew the vessel inside out was the Chief Engineer of the Phoenix, Ken Mumford. Having been displaced from his original time during a test flight in the 2280's, to eventually find himself in the following century, he was now back in his own familiar era. Their only illumination were their standard issue wrist torches, and as they made their way through the dusty corridors that carried a damp and musty stench, Ensign Markey and Lieutenant Dantuma had felt the nervous need to unholster their phasers whilst navigating the ghost ship. Emergency power was operating, albeit barely as there were no emergency lights, or power to the doors. In fact it seemed that the only systems that were still barely operating were the gravity generators and the oxygen recyclers. They had discovered a complement of shuttles in the bay with hardly a scratch on their hulls as if they had just been commissioned out of the San Francisco Fleet Yards. Duco had found it fascinating to see the real thing rather than an empty shell of a Constitution Class shuttle that could be found at the Smithsonian. There was certainly a theme present on the names of the vessels as Craig had felt the need to find out what the shuttles had been christened, and had to remove a film of dust obscuring the lettering; Vulcan, Andoria, Coridan, Tellar. Ken was on autopilot as they had all agreed that the first section they should head for was engineering to evaluate the engine status, dilithium crystals, impulse drive, and nacelles. Although Ken had never cold started a warp core before, it all depended on certain variables such as the condition of the dilithium crystals, as well as the conductivity of the warp coils, the functionality of the bussard collectors, the solidity of the plasma relays, and other essential components. Once engineering was up and running, the next step would to vent all the dust that had gathered over the time that the vessel had been derelict, then activate the navigational deflector, and get the bridge operational. Ken had found that although he was nervous that he had forgotten a lot of the inner workings of a warp engine of this era, the analogy came to mind of riding a bike as a child, and that it was something that could never truly be forgotten. Between the three of them, and Ken's invaluable detailed knowledge, all the components were still in good working order, and they had been relentless in their goal to get the beating heart of the Exeter up and running. The warp core pulsated behind the screen as eventually power was restored to the ship. At the same time Ken had remembered that the deflector array could be activated, powered up, and monitored from an engineering console. One by one the running lights illuminated the classic superstructure. Across the external hull the illumination commenced from the tips of the end of the nacelles, across the engineering hull highlighting the name of the vessel, to the running lights on the saucer section as well as highlighting the name of the starship on that section too. Illuminated in a glorious focused beam of brilliant white light, the resurrected vessel silently shouted its name across the stars; United Federation Of Planets, U.S.S. Exeter NCC 1672. Now fully functioning, with a lot of automation rigged up on the bridge and ready to go, Ken manned the helm and navigational console with Duco. When it came to the centre seat that had last been occupied by Ronald Tracey, Ken didn't want the responsibility and had voiced his preference at sticking in his comfort zone. As for Duco, he hadn't felt any inclination for command of any kind, and wondered if he ever would get that urge. Out of the three, Craig was the only one who had been eternally vocal of his dreams of one day having a command of his very own. So it had been unanimously decided that the young Ensign was the fitting choice for the big chair. The only issue was that they could only come up with one direction in which to head, and wondered what kind of welcome awaited them. Duco addressed the commanding officer awaiting directional inputs to command into the ships systems. "Course heading please." Craig had delicately sat in the seat as if he was scared of breaking it, but had quickly acclimatised himself to the centre seat. "Duco. Key in a course heading for Earth, and upon our arrival drop us into a geo-synchronous orbit of Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco. Ken, prime the engines for a warp five jump." The officers acknowledged the commands in unison as Craig issued the order to proceed; Gentlemen. Punch it!"

Commander Kul could see that the Federation vessel was operational, yet had yet to ascertain their weapons and defences status. However, he was quietly confident that the vessel was no match for the Bird Of Paradise. As the Exeter manoeuvred out of orbit of Omega IV, in the shadows the Crimson Talon swooped over the Exeter only to pivot to face the mighty starship and head it off. "Centurion, power up the weapon and decloak the vessel."


End file.
